After my bombshell last week, life continued pretty much as normal, to be honest.

In case you aren’t in the loop (didn’t you buy a paper last week? We do offer subscriptions, you know), I decided not to take part in the Netherhall 10-mile.

There was no fainting at my BodyFit classes, no disapproving looks from the proper runners and Sam was secretly relieved. But my mates on the other hand – and I use the term loosely on the back of this – did take one bit of my column seriously.

I did, foolishly, pledge to up my weekly mileage. It was a throwaway line and part of the conversation I have with myself every week and usually don’t do.

I’ll set the scene. It was wet and miserable out and Julie, Dianne and myself were having an online conversation about how we should just not bother and we’d run extra next time.

Janette – who will from now on be known as the voice of our conscience/Sam – chipped in and said “Stop it, ladies. You’ll regret it if you don’t”.

Janette is a former copper and I am slightly in awe of the woman. I would have hated to be arrested by her. She’s formidable but very funny and I do love her, sometimes.

Suitably cowed, we turned up at the scheduled time. This run in Cockermouth we weren’t looking forward to turned out to be great. The rain had gone, the wind had dropped and it was quite warm out.

It started out in the usual manner, but then my calf started to hurt a little bit, so I dropped back. I’ve got new shoes for work and they are a slightly higher heel than I normally wear (ie not flat).

I’m wondering if I’ve knocked my pelvis out of balance again and let me tell you, my wonky pelvis is a real menace.

I think a trip to the physio may be in order.

Anyway, Janette and Michelle were way ahead. Margaret suddenly got a spurt on so Julie, Dianne and I were at the back, having a natter.

We have a usual route – up Main Street, up to the school via Castlegate, across the road to the old road and back down Main Street to the Lakes Homecentre car park.

Well, we got a shock. It was a good job we were paying attention. Janette and Michelle diverted from Castlegate and went down Market Place. There was huffing and puffing from the rearguard, I can tell you.

We went along with it and pounded up the old road towards Cockermouth School.

I’d forgotten how endless that route feels sometimes.

Michelle and Janette waited for us at the crossing, with sly smiles on their faces. Before we could yell at them, they were off again, with Janette shouting “We’ve got another surprise too!” before they sped off.

Their surprise? Adding another mile on to the route.

Instead of rebelling, like sensible grown women, we just followed. And moaned.

When we met up at the car park, Janette’s response was “Well, Nicole, you did say you wanted to increase your miles.”

So I end this column with yet another apology – sorry, Dianne and Julie – and cursing my mates, who read what I write.